Browncoat Knight
by Barefoot XO
Summary: When Kaylee's injuries in the pilot cause her to be laid up for a longer period than expected, Mal finds himself in dire need of a backup mechanic. On advice from Monty, Mal seeks out another of the remaining veterans of the War for Independence, a mysterious young warrior named Anakin Solo… and may the Force have mercy…
1. Complications

**Browncoat Knight**

I don't own Firefly or Star Wars. They belong to Joss Whedon and George Lucas respectively.

 **Chapter I: Complications**

"She's suffering complications."

Captain Malcolm Reynolds leveled a fearsome glare at his new ship's doctor. "I seem to recall you tellin' me that Kaylee was making a full recovery, Doctor."

Simon Tam stiffened his stance, practically screaming how insulted he was without a word. "Then perhaps you shouldn't have had your mercenary hauling her about the ship like a sack of potatoes."

"If he didn't go doing that then we'd all of us be Reaver meat, Doctor… Including your sister. Is that what you want?"

The doctor relaxed into a forlorn expression. "No, Captain, of course not. But perhaps you can understand that my diagnosis did not take an unscheduled visit from the Reavers into account." The sarcasm in his tone was biting.

Mal's expression went from anger to faint embarrassment in one easy jump. "All right, Doctor. You're right about that. I can't rightly blame you for circumstances beyond any of our control. Now then… How long am I going to be without my mechanic?"

"A month."

"Jiàn tā de guǐ! You've gotta be kidding me."

Simon sighed. "Unfortunately, Captain, that's how long it will be before Kaylee regains her full capacity to act as your mechanic, with all of the implicit stretching, bending and such that the position requires."

Mal huffed in frustration. As much as he wanted to rail against the doctor for his prediction, he knew that the boy would not be likely to lie to him with both Simon's life and his sister's basically sitting in Mal's hands. "Alright, Doctor. You do the best you can to speed Lil Kaylee's recovery as much as you can. In the meanwhile, I've gotta find us a temp to fill in for her for a while.

"Malcolm Reynolds, you old son of a gun. Look at you…"

Mal grinned boyishly at his old war buddy on the cortex screen. "Monty, I've gotta be honest. That soup-catcher of yours gets scarier every time I see you."

The behemoth of a man roared with laughter, proudly stroking the beard that was his pride and joy. "Well you're just gonna have to live with it, Mal. Ol' Monty don't shave his beard off for nobody. Now what can I do ya for?"

Mal's smile faded slightly as they came to the business at hand. "Actually, I was hoping you might point me in the direction of some trustworthy help. I'm in need of a mechanic, you see…"

Monty's bushy brows shot up in no small amount of shock. "You givin' that Kaylee girl the brush, Mal? That don't seem like you at all."

Mal shook his head firmly in reply. "Nothing like that, Monty. Kaylee's still the apple of my eye. We ran into a bit of trouble with our last transport. One of our passengers turned out to be a rather trigger-happy fed. Luckily for us, another of our passengers was a doctor, or we might be fitting the poor girl for a halo. As it is, I'm gonna need a temp to fill in around here for the better part of a month, minimum. Not a one of my crew is really qualified to pick up her duties."

The look on Monty's face absolutely redefined ugly. "You gonna need any help makin' sure that fed don't cause that sweet little girl no more harm, Mal?" It was a fact of the universe that Kaylee just spoke to something in virtually every man she met. Every last one of them either fell head over heels or came over all paternal on her. Monty, like Mal, was one of the latter breed.

Mal smirked nastily in response. "The fed is currently on Whitefall with a pretty little hole in his head, Monty. He won't be causin' Kaylee no more harm."

"Good," came the unsympathetic reply. Monty, like Mal, was a trained soldier who had fought in the war for independence. The idea of shooting a man who had shot one of his and then leaving him for dead did not bother him as much as it might some. "So you're gonna need a temporary mechanic, eh Mal? You still sailin' in that Firefly o' yours?"

"That's right."

Monty stroked his beard, thoughtfully. "Ain't too many that have the skills you want that ain't already in a crew, Mal. Still fewer that would work for a browncoat. You offerin' only temp work makes the pickings pretty slim. Most of them that would take that job don't know a grav boot from navsat. You might want to look into a fulltime hand. The prospects are better."

"I've got no need for a fulltime mechanic, Monty. I've already got a great one. I just need a temp." Mal allowed a hint of his frustration to leak through. He was well aware that decent mechanics that were willing to hire on for such a short term were few and far between, and he certainly didn't want another clown like Bester messing up all of Kaylee's work."

A light suddenly seemed to come on in Monty's eye as he hauled himself to his feet with a triumphant shout. "I might just have what you need, Mal. I've got a man who's looking for a shot as a fulltime shuttle pilot and hired hand…"

"I need a mechanic, Monty. Shuttle pilots and hired hands are nice but they don't fix my ship…"

"Yeah, but this one will. He's a real ace with small craft and downright scary with a blade, Mal, but he's also a pretty solid mechanic. He's not up at Kaylee's level, o' course, but no one really is…"

Mal's eyes narrowed suspiciously. It sounded really good. That only left the question of what was wrong with the guy. "He's trustworthy?"

Monty offered an ugly grin. "As trustworthy as they come, Mal. He's a former Browncoat. He was with the 181st Angels at the Battle of Sturges…"

Mal's eyes widened. "There wasn't any survivors of the Battle of Sturges, Monty. You know that."

The ugly grin widened. "Oh there was one, Mal. No one really knows how he survived. His fighter was found with next to no power a week after the battle. No one was more shocked than they were when he woke up a week later and actually tried to fight his way clear." Monty's voice was positively dripping smugness. "He kept them Alliance buggers right busy trying to keep him a POW for the rest o' the war. I've met the lad, Mal. He's good as they come. He'll temp for your mechanic if you can offer him a fulltime position when the job is done."

Mal chewed on his lip for a long moment. "All right, Monty. I'll at least give him a look-see. What's his name and where can I find him?"

"You can find him in the pit races on New Mexico. As for his name… It's Solo… Anakin Solo."

Don't fear, folks… How Anakin came to be here will be clarified later. Please note that this is Anakin Solo, son of Leia and Han, not Anakin Skywalker, son of Shmi and 'there was no father'.

Jasper


	2. Solo

I don't own Firefly or Star Wars. They belong to Joss Whedon and George Lucas respectively.

* * *

 **Chapter II: Solo**

Mal smiled triumphantly. It had been an uncomfortable few days, but between Shepherd Book's basic knowledge of Fireflies and Kaylee offering advice from _Serenity_ 's infirmary, they had managed to baby the ship long enough to reach New Mexico. Even better, Mal had been told they might be able to get work at one of the local bars.

Mal turned to look his crew over. "Alright then. Doctor, you get to stay here and run herd on your sister. Keep an eye on Kaylee, while you're at it." Simon simply offered a serious nod and left. They both knew that Simon wouldn't be leaving the ship for long periods until Mal had his mechanic back in proper working order.

"Inara, keep in mind that we'll be leaving in just a few hours. That means any business you'll have will have to be very short or you'll be staying on this planet for duration of our next job." The companion's face was unhappy, but she didn't complain. Mal was still rather tetchy after Kaylee's shooting and subsequent setback. Besides, what Mal had said wasn't anything new.

"Jayne, you're coming with me to the Purple Dragon. We'll be getting information on our next job there." Jayne's response was a large grin. He was being offered paying work and the chance to get drunk? This was his kind of opportunity.

"Wash you'll be staying on the ship too, in case we need a quick getaway. I don't expect trouble, but the Dragon is an Alliance-friendly bar. This close to U-Day, things could get a might perilous." Wash simply nodded his unenthusiastic assent. He wasn't fond of always having to stay with the ship, but that was one of the hazards of being the pilot. If there was any chance that the ship would need to fly in a hurry, the pilot was essential.

"As for you, Zoe, you'll be heading out to the pit races out of Eclipse Canyon. That's where Monty says our prospective temp works these days. His name is Anakin Solo. Monty didn't give me much of a description except to say he had blue eyes and a scrappy look."

Zoe was unimpressed. "That's not much to go on, Sir."

Mal shrugged, conceding her point. "I know it. Just ask for Solo at the races. Monty says they'll know who he is. I want you to look him over personally, Zoe. Monty says he's good, but I'd prefer to have a second opinion before I commit to taking this man on."

"Of course, Sir."

"And what can I do, Captain?" The Shepherd broke in, having been ignored in Mal's little briefing.

Mal looked at the elderly preacher, managing to put his bitterness about God aside for a moment to really consider the options. "Seems to me, Shepherd, that you wouldn't want to join Jayne and me at the Purple Dragon… If you got a real hankering to leave the ship, it might be that Zoe could use hand on her end."

Zoe offered the Shepherd an evaluating glance before nodding resolutely. "You'd be welcome to join me, Shepherd."

Book smiled benignly. "Thank you, Zoe. It'll be good to do something useful."

* * *

The pit races of Eclipse Canyon were one of the primary features of New Mexico's underbelly. It was a high-stakes racing challenge that allowed any land-based vehicle to compete. Weapons were perfectly legal, as long as it was built into your vehicle, which had led to some very unique races. One race had almost been won by a massive tank which had rather very efficiently cleared most of the field of competitors the hard way. The actual victor had been a person riding a mule* that had managed to survive long enough to escape the slower tank's range. To say the least, the race was cutthroat by nature.

Shepherd Book wrinkled his nose at the various disreputable characters that were hanging about the race area. No race was scheduled until nightfall, but many competitors and their pit crews were already present working on their vehicles. A few questions led them to a tall, fat man who ran the races, Yancy Trueheart. The man's face truly redefined ugly. "What can I do ya for?" he asked with a leer in Zoe's direction.

Zoe raised an eyebrow at the leer, but failed to comment. While Zoe might not appreciate being leered at, she was prepared to put up with it for the sake of the job. Anything beyond that… Well, then Trueheart was going to eat his own kneecaps. "We're looking for one of your racers… Anakin Solo. We've got an offer for him."

Yancy showed enough sense to limit himself to the leer, but was not about to be helpful without something more to justify it. "What's he worth to you?"

Book, who simply did not like the look of Trueheart, could not help but comment. "We can start by not telling this woman's husband that you were looking in his wife's direction. He's a rather large and possessive gentleman. And if that's not enough, might offer you the last rites before he hears of this…"

Trueheart proved to be the tower of jello that he resembled and folded rather spectacularly to Book's unsubtle threats. "Solo's about a dozen tents down, in the one with the green flag hanging off of it."

Zoe offered an insincere smile. "Thanks for your help." She flipped the man a low value coin and turned to leave, Book by her side. As soon as they were out of earshot, she could not help but comment. "My man may be a bit possessive when the mood hits him, but ain't no one but Simon who might consider him large, and even Simon probably wouldn't."

Book simply offered a smug smirk. "That imbecile doesn't know that. I rather enjoy the thought of that man jumping at shadows for the next little while whenever a very large man crosses his way. It might serve as a little penance for breaking one of God's commandments…"

Zoe shrugged. "I'm pretty sure Wash ain't that guy's neighbour, Shepherd, but thanks all the same." She glanced ahead to see that they had reached their destination. "Let's get the Captain his mechanic."

The inside of the tent was a rough circle, centred on a floating vehicle that bore a vague resemblance to a mule, specifically a hover-mule**. The difference was that the vehicle in question was far smaller and sleeker, obviously built more for speed and maneuverability rather than its cargo capacity.

"It's a speeder-bike." Zoe's mare's leg was leveled and loaded even as she spun towards the person who had spoken as he slid out from under the speeder-bike, obviously having been working on it. The young man had a mop of brown hair that fell into his eyes and was wearing a surprisingly easy grin for someone faced with the immediate prospect of death by explosive dismemberment. "No need to be so shocked. This is my home, such as it is. Obviously, I'm going to be here."

It took Zoe an embarrassingly long time to understand who she was talking to. At only about twenty-five, the young man in front of her would have only been a teenager when the Unification War was in its final years. He wasn't as young as Kaylee or River, but he was actually younger than Simon, which was mind-boggling for a Browncoat veteran. There weren't many pilots that were quite _that_ young. "Anakin Solo?"

The kid's smile was somewhat endearing. "That's me. What can I do for you two?"

Zoe actually started as she recalled the Shepherd. She shook herself angrily. It wasn't like her to be so easily thrown off by an odd circumstance. That was usually the Captain's thing. "I'm Zoe Washburne and this is Shepherd Book." She gestured to her traveling companion. We're here on behalf of Malcolm Reynolds, hoping to hire you for a temporary mechanic job."

Anakin frowned slightly. "I'm committed to a race tomorrow, Miss Washburne. Also, I'm not about to leave this place for a temp job unless you can really sell it. Convince me, Miss Washburne…"

* * *

* A mule refers to a cargo vehicle, rather than a four legged animal of the equine variety.

** A hover-mule is like the mule in the movie Serenity, rather than the wheeled version in the show.

Hope you enjoyed

Jasper


	3. Job Interview

I don't own Firefly or Star Wars. They belong to Joss Whedon and George Lucas respectively.

* * *

 **Job Interview**

Zoe actually chewed on her lip a moment. The gesture was so uncharacteristic of her that she was shocked by it. She shook her head to clear it. This Solo was really messing with her head. "The mechanic's job is a temporary one. Our current mechanic was badly wounded by a trigger-happy passenger. That being said, the Captain's been told that you're a man of many talents. He's open to you possibly becoming a member of our crew, once the temp job is over." The question of what his other qualifications were hung in the air.

Solo grinned, his blue eyes shining with mischief, as he answered softly. "I'm considered an expert with small craft. Probably one of the best there is. I'm proficient with larger craft, but not really an expert. I'm also considered one of the best sword-wielders in the 'Verse. There is some big dandy on Persephone that's been after me for a duel for quite some time." The brunet snorted in disdain. "I'm also a decent marksman and a good mechanic. That's my resumé, Ms. Washburne."

"Mrs. Washburne, actually."

"Oh? Well congratulations then, Ma'am." Crystal blue eyes hardened softly. "Now y'all can leave. I've got a race to win tonight." The man abruptly spun about and walked back towards his speeder-bike.

"It's been awhile, hasn't it?" Shepherd Book spoke softly. "You've been on your own for so long that you don't trust easily anymore."

Anakin turned back, irritably brushing his hair out of his eyes, and leveling a glare at the preacher who had spoken to him. "You don't know what you're talking about, Shepherd."

The Shepherd shook his head slowly. "You were a browncoat, that much is obvious. Only a browncoat would have the gall to wear a brown jacket on an Alliance-friendly world like New Mexico. Granted, this isn't an Alliance-friendly area, but the bulk of the planet is…"

Anakin huffed in apparent irritation. "The war's long over, Shepherd. What I was doesn't matter anymore. It only matters what I am now."

"And what you are now is a young veteran of a war that you were too young to properly grasp. It has left you traumatized and scared to trust again. We can help you reintegrate, young man."

A bitter laugh echoed through the tent. "Save your psycho-babble, Preacher. I may have been young when that messy little war happened, but I knew exactly what it was about. That war was about a corrupt government with imperialistic aspirations, trying to grind the rest of the galaxy under its heel."

"I'm sure the Alliance seems that way at times…"

Anakin's eyes narrowed into slits. "Don't presume to know what the Alliance is, Shepherd. I've experienced it from a seat you probably never have."

"Oh?"

The holy man's curiosity seemed to stoke the youth's anger, building it swiftly. And then, as quickly as it had built, it was gone. Solo took a deep, meditative breath and appeared to simply wipe his anger from his body like one removes dust from a picture. As the anger melted away, Anakin reopened his eyes and they were calm. "POWs were not treated well by the Alliance, Shepherd. I was worse, though. I was a POW who lived through something I shouldn't have. The Alliance spent the rest of that accursed war trying to figure out how I lived. They were very… thorough in their interrogation tactics."

The Shepherd actually blanched at that. "Not Adelai…"

"Niska?" Anakin looked the preacher over, obviously considering him. "Interesting that you'd know that name, Shepherd. There's not too many that realize that sleazebag was an Alliance torturer during the war, specializing in advanced interrogations."

Zoe had let Book run the show until now, her strange uncertainty when dealing with Solo having left her preferring to let someone else take the lead. She was glad that she had. This conversation was revealing in many senses. It shed some light on Solo's past experiences, making it easier for Zoe to maybe trust him going forward. Mal hadn't given her any real information, preferring to let her evaluate Solo in a vacuum. She was also picking up interesting tidbits on Book and even on Adelai Niska, a somewhat infamous underworld crime boss.

The Shepherd's voice was soft. "I'm familiar with Niska's history. The man is a monster by every standard of the word."

Solo nodded. "Yes, he is."

Zoe decided that now was the time for her to break back into the conversation. "The temporary mechanic's job is yours if you want it. It's good for until our mechanic is back on her feet. After that, assuming that you and the captain are both satisfied, I think we could use a shuttle pilot who doubles as a gunhand."

An expression of interest crossed the young man's face. He was obviously tempted. "It sounds like it might be a good hitch, but I have already committed to tonight's race. There's a hundred platinum entry fee… non-refundable."

Zoe winced at that. A hundred platinum was nothing to sneeze at, especially for an individual. She certainly didn't think Mal was prepared to compensate the man for it. They weren't exactly very liquid at the moment. "And what if we were to leave after tomorrow's race?"

Anakin seemed to consider her for a long moment before responding. "I think that we've got a deal, Mrs. Washburne."

As Zoe shook Solo's hand, she hoped that Mal would be willing to accept the delay on whatever work he was currently scaring up at the Purple Dragon. Still, Inara would probably appreciate being able to work her craft a little longer…

Zoe winced internally. It would probably be best not to use that as an argument in favour of extending their stay on New Mexico. Mal wasn't exactly fond of Inara's work, however useful it might be to them at times.

* * *

Jasper


End file.
